Deliverance
by truelove93
Summary: This is my re-telling of the eighth and final season of Game of Thrones. The way it should have ended for all the characters involved.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, all. Like most of you, I was disappointed with the final season of Game of Thrones. The story and plot lines were rushed and characters made sudden turns that just did not match the characters we had all grown to love (and a few we hate) over the course of the series. Some of you may not have been surprised by the way things ended. Maybe some of you have accepted it. Maybe that's the best thing you can do. As for me...I'm not quite there yet. But with this story, perhaps I too will gain closure. Will this match the ending George R.R. Martin has planned for his books? Probably not. Will I match anything he can write? Probably not. Will I cover everything the show creators missed? Probably not. But will this story be better than what they have written? Hopefully. This story will be much longer and more in-depth than the final season was and we'll get to see what our beloved characters are thinking as they go along. Just so you know, the first couple of chapters of this story will start out the same as the last season did, but will diverge more and more as we go on. The title of this story is Deliverance. At first, I didn't know what to call this story, but as I looked up the word deliverance, it meant "the state of being saved from something dangerous or unpleasant." So this is me delivering the show from an ending it did not deserve and delivering unto you a more sensible ending. So now, without further adieu, here is the first chapter of Deliverance, the way Game of Thrones should have ended.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire. If so, I would be very rich and in hiding right now.**

Chapter 1

The little boy ran through the snowy, frosty woods that surrounded the great castle of Winterfell. He hopped over rocks lodged in a small creek to get through to the small homes outside of Winterfell. He climbed over a snow-covered wagon and shoved his way through the crowd gathered by the side of the road. He could see tall charcoal black spear sticking up and walking in front of the crowd, but he couldn't see who was holding them. Finally, someone budged so he could see the circular, charcoal shields that accompanied the spears. He ran through the opening to get to the front of the crowd. He ran in front of the crowd and climbed up a small tree. Now he could see them all in their four-line formation as they marched through the town towards Winterfell. He looked back amidst the shouting and saw more lines of them stretching for miles back. There had to have been hundreds, maybe thousands of them.

Arya Stark smiled as she watched the young boy run, for he reminded her so much of her younger brother Bran and how excited they both were as children all those years ago when King Robert came to Winterfell to ask their father, Eddard Stark to be his Hand. Oh how their lives were so much simpler back then with their family still intact. She stood at the front of the crowd for she longed to see her half-brother, Jon Snow, again after so many years. The sooner she saw him, the better. Her sister Sansa had told her how they had reconnected and joined forces to defeat the monstrous Boltons at the Battle of the Bastards and reclaimed Winterfell in the name of the Starks. She had missed him when she returned to Winterfell because he had travelled south to meet with Daenerys Targaryen, the last surviving member of the Targaryen dynasty, the dragon queen.

Sure enough, nestled in between the Unsullied soldiers were Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen on horseback side by side. They were the picture of what a powerful couple should be. Daenerys glanced at Jon before keeping her eyes on the road ahead. As surprised as Arya was to see Jon riding right next to Daenerys Targaryen, she was relieved just to see him again, for Sansa had told her that members of the Night's Watch had stabbed him and left him for dead. Yet Jon rode right past her.

Arya was shocked that Jon didn't recognize her right away, but she was even more shocked to see the Hound, Sandor Clegane, riding close behind them. She had abandoned him long ago after a brutal fight with Brienne of Tarth and she had long believed he had died from his injuries. She remembered how much she had hated him for killing her friend Mycah, the butcher's son, on the Kingsroad on the way to King's Landing. Yet, he had taken care of her and kept her safe from ruffians. She was so sure that she would kill him herself, yet when the time came, all she could do was take his money and run. What was he doing here in Winterfell? What would happen between the two of them next?

Yet riding behind the Hound was another surprise for Arya-Gendry. A simple armor's apprentice, he had befriended her as she escaped King's Landing after the execution of her father. He was the only one smart enough to figure out that she was a girl and he quickly earned her trust by keeping her identity a secret. Together, they had escaped Harrenhal and on the way through the Riverlands, Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion had sold him to the Red Woman. She was happy to see that he was alive as well. He had cut his dark hair and had gotten taller and more muscular. Not that she was staring or anything like that.

Riding in a cart behind Gendry was Tyrion Lannister, the Hand of the Queen, and Varys, the former Master of Whispers. "You should consider yourself lucky, you know?" the Imp asked his bald friend. Varys looked at him. "At least you balls won't freeze off," Tyrion joked about his gelding friend.

"You take great offense to torture but love telling eunuch jokes. Why is that?" Varys asked, offended.

"Because I have balls and you don't," Tyrion answered. Behind the cart rode Grey Worm, Commander of the Unsullied and Missandei, advisor and interpreter for Daenerys Targaryen. They were as far north as they had even been. Getting used to the cold was one thing, but they had never seen so many people with such fair complexions. And it was clear that these Northerners had never seen people with such dark complexions as well. To the Northerners, everyone was an outsider, an intruder, especially Daenerys, the daughter of the Mad King who had killed two Starks in one day.

"I warned you, Northerners don't much trust outsiders," Jon said to Daenerys. But Daenerys had other plans for getting the North on her side. In the distance was a set of screeching roars. Everyone looked up to see Daenerys's two dragons, Drogon and Rhaegal, flying overhead. The Northerners, long believing that Dragons were extinct, ran and screamed at the sight of the dragons. Arya, having read many impressive stories about dragons and their riders, smiled in awe. Daenerys smiled at the fear her children instilled in the commoners. She sat up straight, just as a true queen would. The dragons soared over the towers of Winterfell to the shock of Sansa Stark. She had heard stories about Daenerys and her dragons, but she never expected she would actually see dragons in the North. How was she supposed to greet this dragon queen, to whom Jon had bent the knee and pledged the support of the North to without consulting her first? What would the arrival of Daenerys and her dragons mean for Winterfell and the North?

Finally, following the banner men, Jon and Daenerys arrived in the great castle of Winterfell. Jon quickly got off his horse and ran to his smiling half-siblings, Bran and Sansa. Until he got a note from Sansa, he believed that Bran and Arya were dead. Jon embraced Bran and kissed him on the forehead. "Look at you. You're a man," Jon said.

"Almost," Bran answered. Jon seemed confused as to what that might mean. He looked up to Sansa and hugged her. Sansa kept her eyes on Daenerys, who was standing next to Ser Jorah Mormont.

"Where's Arya?" Jon asked.

"Lurking somewhere," Sansa answered. Jon looked toward the dragon queen and she walked over to him and Sansa.

"Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen," Jon introduced her to the Northern lords and ladies. "My sister, Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell."

"Thank you for inviting us into your home, Lady Stark," Daenerys thanked Jon's sister. "The North is as beautiful as your brother claimed, as are you," she continued, trying to win over the sister of the man she loved.

"Winterfell is yours, your grace," Sansa said icily. Daenerys could detect some tension in her voice.

"We don't have time for all this," Bran interrupted. "The Night King has your dragon," he said to Daenerys. "He's one of them now. He resurrected him from the ice lake. He used him to break down the wall. He and his army are marching south as we speak." Everyone now knew that they had to formulate a plan to defeat the Night King and his army of White Walkers quickly.

…...

"As soon as we heard about the Wall, I called all our banners to retreat to Winterfell," Sansa announced in the dining hall of Winterfell to the northern lords and ladies. "Lord Umber," she called. Little Ned Umber stuck out his head from the crowd of northern men. "When can we expect your people to arrive?" she asked.

He stood up and walked toward Sansa. "We need more horses and wagons, if it please, my lady," he said. "And my lord," he said, turning to Jon. "And my queen," he said turning to Daenerys. Clearly, he was unsure where his loyalties were to lie at this moment. "Sorry," he said, confused.

"You'll have as many as we can spare," Sansa said. "Hurry back to Last Hearth and bring your people here," she ordered.

Ned Umber bowed and returned to his seat. "We need to send ravens to the Night's Watch as well." Jon said. "There's no sense in manning the castles anymore. We make our stand here."

"At once, your grace," Maester Wolkan said before heading out of the room.

"Your grace?" a little voice piped up from the crowd. It was none other than young Lyanna Mormont. Although she was just barely over ten years old, she had proven on many occasions to hold her own against powerful men. "But you're not, are you?" she asked as she stood up. Jon knew this moment was coming as soon as he bent the knee to Daenerys. He would have to explain why he pledged the whole North to her cause, especially given her ancestors' tainted history with the North. "You left Winterfell a king and came back a…I'm not sure what you are now. A lord? Nothing at all?" Jon could hear the other Northern lords muttering in agreement with her.

"It's not important," Jon tried to answer her.

"Not important?" Lyanna Mormont asked. "We named you King in the North." Now they were all shouting in agreement. Jon tired to look to Sansa for comfort, but all he got was a cold glance. He knew that even she was disappointed with his decision.

"You did, my lady," Jon continued. "It was the honor of my life. I'll always be grateful for your faith. But when I left Winterfell, I told you we will need allies or we will die," he said as he stood up and Lyanna sat down. "And I have brought those allies home to fight alongside us. I had a choice: to keep my crown or protect the North. And I chose the North." But this did nothing to appease the crowd.

Tyrion Lannister stood up and walked in front of the table where Jon, Daenerys, and Sansa sat. "If anyone survives the war to come, we'll have Jon Snow to thank. He risked his life to show us the threat is real. Thanks to his courage, we have the greatest army the world has ever seen. We have brought two full-grown dragons. We have Dothraki and Unsullied soldiers from Meereen. And soon the Lannister army will ride north to join our cause." He said that last part with hesitation, for he himself doubted the truth in his sister's promise. This only worsened the crowd's reaction. If there was one family that had caused the Starks more trouble than the Targaryens, it was the Lannisters. Thanks to their conniving nature, Lord Eddard Stark and his lady Catelyn were dead, along with the previous King in the North, Robb Stark.

The person who seemed the most surprised by this was Sansa. She knew well that Cersei would never send her troops north unless it was to eliminate the rest of her family. She knew that Cersei would never do anything if there weren't anything for herself in return. She would never risk her life or her troops to help anyone, lest of all people she hated, which was pretty much everyone. "I know, I know, our people haven't been friends in the past," Tyrion continued. "But we must fight together now, or die."

"May I ask, how are we meant to feed the greatest army the world has ever seen?" Sansa asked her ex-husband. "While I ensured our stores would last through winter, I didn't account for Dothraki, Unsullied, and two full-grown dragons. What do dragons eat anyway?" Since no one had seen a dragon in many years, it was a fair question.

"Whatever they want," Daenerys coldly answered. Sansa and Daenerys turned their stares toward each other menacingly. This was definitely going to be a long winter for everyone involved.

…

One by one, horses carrying wagonloads of dragonglass arrived at Winterfell where it would be forged into weapons and given to everyone there. As a former armor's apprentice, Gendry was in charge of mining the dragonglass. "Okay, careful, let's get every last bit of it," he said as he climbed into a wagon filled with dragonglass. "Are these the last of the wagons?" he asked. As he had accompanied Jon Snow north of the Wall to find a wight to show Cersei, he had seen how large the Night King's army was and that the more dragonglass they had, the better.

Up on the balcony, Tyrion noticed his ex-wife talking to Yohn Royce. "My lord, my lady," he greeted as he approached them. Sansa glanced at Yohn Royce, urging him to leave the two of them alone,"

"My lady, " Yohn Royce said as he headed out. Now the two of them were alone.

"The Lady of Winterfell," Tyrion said as he walked closer to her. "Has a nice ring to it."

"So does Hand of the Queen, depending on the queen, I suppose" Sansa replied.

"Last time we spoke was at Joffrey's wedding. Miserable affair," he said, remembering how his horrible nephew had humiliated him and how the event resulted in his own arrest, trial, and exile.

"It had its moments," Sansa said, trying to cheer him up. They both knew how horrible Joffrey was. Tyrion knew that nothing more than Joffrey's death, except maybe Cersei's death, would bring Sansa joy and peace at last.

"Apologies for leaving like that," Sansa said. If she had stayed, she too would have been arrested, tried, and executed for Joffrey's death. After all, she was the one who had suffered the most under him. Who else would have had a better motive to kill him?

"Yes, it was a bit hard to explain why my wife fled moments after the king's murder."

"We both survived," Sansa said comfortingly once again.

"So many underestimated you. Most of them are dead now," Tyrion replied. Changing the subject, he continued. "I'm sure you weren't thrilled to hear the Lannister army is marching north. You have every right to be fearful of my sister. No one fears her more than I do but I promise you-"

"Cersei told you her army was coming north to fight for you?" Sansa interrupted.

"She did," Tyrion answered.

"You believed her?" Sansa asked again.

"She has something to live for now. I believe she wants to survive," Tyrion answered. What could that mean? All Cersei ever cared about was herself, her power, and her children. Could Cersei be pregnant again, Sansa wondered.

"I used to think you were the cleverest man alive," Sansa said before exiting. Tyrion felt the sting in her statement. Deep down, he knew his sister wasn't coming. But he had made her a deal in exchange for her promise. But it was essential that no one, especially not Daenerys found out what that deal was. If it was discovered, he could be imprisoned or executed by his queen. Tyrion looked down and saw Sansa's younger brother Bran looking up at them. Clearly he had heard their exchange. Who knows what else the young boy was thinking? Did he know that Cersei wasn't coming? Did he know about the promise Tyrion made to his sister? Whatever the case may be, Tyrion knew that he was back in the dangerous political climate of Westeros.

…

Jon stood at the weirwood tree in the Godswood. His father used to come here often to pray, to think, or probably just to be away from everyone for a few moments. But Jon was not alone now.

"You used to be taller," a voice surprised him. Jon turned around to see Arya standing a few feet away from him.

"How did you sneak up on me?" he asked.

"How did you survive a knife through the heart?" she asked in return after hearing Sansa's story.

"I didn't," he answered. "The Red Woman brought me back to life." Arya smiled and ran to her brother's arms. He picked her up and held her tightly, just like he had the last time they saw each other, when she was leaving for King's Landing. As much as he loved all of his half-siblings, Arya was the one he felt closest to. Others never understood them or cast them aside, but they both knew where they stood in the world around them. When he put her down, he noticed that she still had the goodbye present he gave her.

"You've still got it?"

Arya pulled out her sword and held it in her hands. "Needle." Jon held his hands underneath hers.

"Have you ever used it?" He asked.

"Once or twice," she answered. Jon knew that she had used it a lot more than one or twice by the tone of her voice. She put her sword back in its holder and he pulled out his own sword, Longclaw, given to him by Lord Commander Jeor Mormont at the Wall. He placed it in her hands.

"Valyrian steel," she remarked, impressed.

"Jealous?" He asked.

Arya chuckled. "Too heavy for me." She handed it back to Jon and he put it back in his holder.

Jon then put his hand on Arya's shoulder and asked, "Where were you before? I could have used your help with Sansa."

"Sansa doesn't like your queen, does she?" Arys replied.

"Sansa thinks she's smarter than everyone," Jon remarked.

"She's the smartest person I've ever met," Arya told Jon. After all, if it weren't for Sansa, the Starks would not have won Winterfell back from the Boltons. They would not have stored enough food to feed everyone throughout the winter.

"Now you're defending her? You?" Jon chuckled. He remembered how different Arya and Sansa were as children. They could never agree on anything. Whenever Sansa wanted to sew and knit, Arya wanted to fight in the mud with her brothers. Sansa always made them both feel like outsiders, modeling the behavior of her mother, Lady Catelyn Stark.

"I'm defending our family. So is she," Arya said.

"I'm her family too," Jon said, for he knew Sansa did not agree with his decisions. Arya hugged Jon again.

"Don't forget that," she said. They both closed their eyes and held each other tight.

…

Meanwhile, back in King's Landing, Qyburn approached Queen Cersei, who was watching the sea with her Kingsguard. "Your grace, I am afraid I bring terrible news. The dead have broken through the Wall.

"Good," Cersei smirked as she turned and walked away.

Euron Greyjoy was onboard his ship with a special delivery for Queen Cersei. He had brought her the Golden Company from Essos to help her fight her enemies after winter had come and gone and they would try to take the Ion Throne from her. Also onboard was his captive niece, Yara Greyjoy, who was tied to a pole below deck.

"Why don't you just get it over with and kill me?" a dismayed Yara asked her uncle.

"But we're family. The last the Greyjoys left. The last ones with balls, anyway," Euron laughed as he sat down beside his niece. "If I kill you, who can I talk to?" Yara remained silent. "I've got a crew full of mutes. It gets lonely at sea."

"Are we in King's Landing?" Yara asked. Euron smiled and offered her some of his ale, but she refused. "You picked the losing side," she said.

Then I'll sail the Iron Fleet somewhere else," Euron said. Then he sharply got up and into Yara's face. "But first I'm going to fuck the queen." He walked out and left his niece by herself once again.

Euron brought Harry Strickland, captain of the Golden Company, with him to meet with Cersei.

"20,000 men, is it?" Cersei asked.

"Yes, your grace," Harry answered. "A few died in transit."

"They cheated at dice," Euron explained. "Or maybe I cheated. Someone cheated. They weren't good fighters. You won't miss them."

"Horses?" Cersei asked.

"2,000," Harry answered.

"Elephants?"

"No elephants, your grace."

"That's disappointing. I was told the Golden Company had elephants. I wanted those elephants," Cersei said menacingly.

"They are excellent beasts, your grace, but not well-suited to long sea voyages," Harry explained.

"In any event, you are most welcome here in King's Landing, Captain Strickland," Cersei ensured.

"We look forward to fighting on your behalf, your grace," Harry replied. He bowed his head and left the room.

"Am I most welcome here?" asked Euron.

"You are a true friend of the crown and an honored guest," Cersei answered.

"Good. As a true friend and honored guest," Euron began. He started to make his way toward the Iron Throne, but was stopped by the Mountain. "I was hoping we could talk in private," he whispered.

"After the war. That was our agreement," Cersei reminded him.

"Wars sometimes last years," Euron whispered.

"You want a whore, you buy one. You want a queen, earn her," Cersei stated. She got up, turned around, and started to walk away.

"How?" Euron asked. "I've given her justice, an army, and the Iron Fleet. Yet, she gives me no sign of affection. My heart is nearly broken," Euron complained.

Cersei turned around to face him again. "You're insolent. I've executed men for less."

"They were lesser men."

Cersei walked off to the side, as if to consider her options for a moment. After all, this man had brought her the women who had murdered her daughter and now their bodies were rotting in her prison. He had brought her his enormous army and that of the Golden Company. It was said that the Golden Company had never broken a contract, so she didn't have to worry about money or loyalty distracting them from their task at hand-killing her enemies. Maybe he did deserve something in return after all. Maybe they would never have a chance to be together again if winter came, followed by the army of the dead. She then turned around and smiled at Euron, urging him to come along with her. Euron smiled and followed, giggling in the cold, dead face of the Mountain as he passed him.

After their encounter, Euron asked, "So how do I compare to the Fat King?"

"You're insulting my late husband."

"Are you offended?" he asked.

"Robert had a different whore every night, yet he still didn't know his way around a woman's body," Cersei answered, sipping wine from a glass.

"And the Kingslayer?"

"You enjoy risking your neck, don't you?" Cersei asked. As powerful as Euron was, no one could compare to Jaime, her twin brother, the father of her children, the only man she truly loved.

"Life is boring," was Euron's reply.

"You're not boring. I'll give you that." Euron walked up to her.

"Do I please the queen?" he asked.

"You may be the most arrogant man I've ever met. I like that," Cersei said.

"Well I have to be arrogant. I'm going to be a god. And so are you. Together, we will become immortal and outlive all our enemies. Together, we will be all-powerful. But as of right now, I'm going to put a prince in your belly."

Euron headed back toward the bed. Cersei had a few more sips from her glass of wine and teared up at the mention of children. Tyrion had promised the safety of her and her child. But Cersei had lost the child shortly after Jaime had left her. It was his fault, she thought to herself. And she was getting far too old to conceive and bear another child. She wouldn't dare tell Tyrion or Jaime about her miscarriage, so now what was she to do?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

While Euron enjoyed the queen's company in her bed, Yara Greyjoy sat alone and despondent tied up to a pole beneath deck on her uncle's ship, the _Silence_, as she had been doing for several months now. Suddenly, she heard loud grunts and thuds. The door to her room was opened. She looked down and saw one of her uncle's men dead with a hatchet in his eye. When she looked up, she saw her younger brother, Theon Greyjoy. He took the hatchet from the dead soldier's eye and used it to cut his sister free. He helped her stand up.

The last time they saw each other, Euron held her at knifepoint and threatened to kill her if Theon tried to rescue her. He jumped overboard and joined what little remained of her crew to urge Daenerys Targaryen to rescue her. Yara leaned back and butted him with her head, sending Theon to the ground for him abandoning her yet again. Still, he was her brother and he had finally come to rescue her, so she offered her hand and pulled him up. Together, they escaped with their crew and got back on their own Greyjoy ships.

"Euron can't defend the Iron Islands, not if he was in King's Landing with all his men and his ships," Yara told her brother. "We can take our home back."

"Daenerys went north," Theon told his sister.

"Daenerys will need somewhere to retreat to if she can't hold the north. Somewhere the dead can't go," Yara reminded Theon. Theon once again felt conflicted by where his loyalties lay. Yara was, as far as he was concerned, the rightful queen of the Iron Islands. But he rallied behind Yara's support for Daenerys as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And Jon was with Daenerys in the North, his other home, where he had spent most of his life and bonded with the Stark children. And then he betrayed them. But he paid the price for it tenfold with his torture under the ruthless Ramsey Bolton. Once he saved Sansa from Ramsey and reunited with his sister, he was set to right the wrongs of his past.

"My queen, I go where you command," he told his sister. Normally, since he was the only son of Balon Greyjoy left, the salt throne would be his. But with his history, his inability to father children, and his family squabbling for it, he was perfectly comfortable serving under his big sister.

But Yara could see that he truly did not want to return to the Iron Islands with her. "You want to go to Winterfell to fight for the Starks." Theon could not deny it. "Go. What is dead may never die." Those were the words of their Greyjoy house.

"What is dead may never die," Theon repeated. Yara grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hug, knowing this may very well be the last time she saw her brother.

"They kill the bastards anyway," she said.

…

Back at Winterfell, Alys Karstark was bringing her men, horses, and wagons from her house to Winterfell.

"Welcome back my lady," Yohn Royce greeted her. "If you'd follow me," he led her inside the castle.

"The Karstarks," Tyrion remarked. He, Varys, and Davos Seaworth were watching them from a few feet away. "One of the better sigils. Beats an onion, anyway," he joked at Davos, whose nickname was the Onion Knight for his smuggling of onions to Dragonstone during the previous winter.

"Can't argue with that," Davos agreed. "Not so long ago the Starks and the Karstarks were slaughtering each other on the battlefield. Jon Snow brought peace to the houses."

"And our queen is grateful," Tyrion added.

"Her gratitude is lovely, but that's not my point," Davos continued. "The Northmen are loyal to Jon Snow, not to her. They don't know her. The Free Folk don't know her. I've been up here a while and I'm telling you, they're stubborn as goats. You want their loyalty, you have to earn it."

Tyrion stood behind his friends for a few moments to consider everything Davos had just told him. He knew he was right. He hoped that Daenerys joining their cause and sacrificing one of her dragons for it could be enough for the Northmen to temporarily forget the horrors her father had imposed on them so many years ago. But then again, maybe they needed more persuasion. He followed Varys and Davos up the stairs on top of the wall. "I sense that you're leading to a proposal," Tyrion asked.

"A proposal is what I'm proposing," Davos answered. "On the off chance that we survive the Night King, what if the Seven Kingdoms, for once in their shit history, were ruled by a just woman and an honorable man?" They stood watching Jon and Daenerys talking by the tents.

"They do make a handsome couple," Tyrion admitted. He knew that they had been intimate already on their boat ride here. He knew that their love for each other would complicate the plans he had.

"You overestimate our influence. Jon and Daenerys don't want to listen to lonely old men," Varys argued.

"I'm not that old," Tyrion quipped. "I'm not as old as him," he said, motioning to Davos. Davos snorted in response "Our queen respect the wisdom of age," he said.

"Of course she does," Varys said. "Respect is how the young keep us at a distance so we don't remind them of an unpleasant truth."

"What is that?" Tyrion asked.

"Nothing lasts," Varys answered grimly.

Jon and Daenerys walked together amongst the incoming wagons and the tents set up outside of Winterfell, where men were building trebuchets. "Your sister doesn't like me," she said.

"She doesn't know you," Jon said, trying to comfort her. "If it makes you feel any better, she didn't like me when we were growing up. She's been through a lot. It would be a miracle if she did like anyone at all."

"She doesn't need to be my friend. But I am her queen," Daenerys stated. The two were interrupted by three Dothraki men riding up to Daenerys. Jon heard her ask them something in Dothraki. One of them answered her in Dothraki before the three of them slowly rode off.

"What's the matter?" Jon asked Daenerys.

"It's the dragons. They've eaten 18 goats and 11 sheep already. We should go check on them." Jon and Daenerys found Drogon and Rhaegal resting by a large pile of charred bones in a field by a small river far from Winterfell.

"What's wrong with them?" Jon asked.

Daenerys reached up and stroked Drogon's snout. "They don't like the North," she said. Jon noticed Rhaegal looking intently at him. The way Rhaegal was looking at him, it was almost like he knew him, like he could see into his soul. Daenerys climbed on top of Drogon. "Go on," she gently urged.

She had to be kidding. He had never ridden a dragon before. He knew how dangerous they were. He was practically a stranger to this dragon. "I don't know how to ride a dragon," he told her firmly.

"Nobody does, until they ride a dragon," Daenerys encouraged.

"What if he doesn't want me to?" Jon asked.

"Then I've enjoyed your company, Jon Snow." Rhaegal leaned down and allowed Jon to climb up on his back. It was rather rough, scaly, and spiky.

"What do I hold onto?" Jon asked.

"Whatever you can," Daenerys answered.

Jon grabbed onto a couple of Rhaegal's spines. Immediately, Rhaegal began to ascend, as Jon struggled to hold on. Daenerys smiled at the man she loved riding one of her dragons before she followed them. Rhaegal leaned toward one side and then the other, flying over the soldiers marching into Winterfell and in front of Davos, Tyrion, and Varys, who had been discussing them moments earlier. Daenerys flew in front of him above the evergreen woods. She looked back at him. Rhaegal called out to his mother and brother before they dove closer to the forest, knocking some snow off of the pine trees.

Jon saw Daenerys and Drogon dive into a trench. Jon looked for her. Once he saw her, Rhaegal sharply dove deeper into the trench. Rhaegal and Drogon swerved around each edge of the trench and navigated their way through and above it. Jon decided to steer Rhaegal to his left. Daenerys curiously watched him and steered Drogon toward him. She found Rhaegal lying in the snow. Daenerys gently landed Drogon next to him.

"You've completely ruined horses for me," Jon said as they walked away from the dragons. Daenerys giggled. Her eyes lit up as Jon had taken her to a beautiful waterfall.

"We could stay a thousand years. No one would find us." Daenerys said as she turned towards Jon. Jon smiled. His former love, Ygritte, who was now dead, had once said something similar to him when they made love for the first time inside a cave equipped with a waterfall.

"We'd be pretty old," he said. The two of them walked closer to each other. "It's cold up here for a southern girl," Jon smugly said.

"So keep your queen warm," Daenerys huskily demanded. Jon pulled her closer and kissed her. She put her arm around him. Their kiss was interrupted by the dragons growling, watching them. Were they threatened by Jon's presence and his closeness to their mother? Would they hurt him just for kissing her? Could they know how intimate they had been already? Daenerys smiled. "Don't be afraid," she said. She pulled him back to continue their kiss. Jon opened his eyes to see Drogon snorting at him.

Back at Winterfell, dragonglass weapons were being forged. Molds had been made for arrows, axes, and daggers. Someone called out Gendry's name. He walked over and picked up an axe made of dragonglass. He had forged many types of armor in his day, but the only weapon he could handle was a battle-axe, much like his late father, Robert Baratheon, who slew Rhaegar Targaryen at the Battle of the Trident with the very same weapon.

"It isn't easy making a blade that big with dragonglass," Gendry bragged. He handed his axe to the Hound.

"You're saying you're good at it?" the Hound asked.

"I'm just saying it's a tricky material to-"

"You know who makes weapons for the wildlings?" the Hound interrupted. "Proposing cocksuckers," he answered. "Which one are you?"

"Leave him be," A voice said from behind them. They both turned around and were surprised to see Arya Stark glaring at them. The last time the Hound saw her, she had taken his money and left him for dead after a vicious battle with Brienne of Tarth. The last time Gendry saw her, he was being taken away by the Red Woman. Arya was no longer the plucky little tomboy they once knew. Now, she was a taller, deadly, more developed young woman.

"I heard you were here. You left me to die," the Hound said.

"First I robbed you," Arya reminded him. The Hound had once done the same to a farmer and his daughter who had taken them in. Both were dead now, and the Hound buried them. He got up and walked closer to Arya. His glare matched her own.

"You're a cold little bitch, aren't you? Guess that's why you're still alive." The Hound walked off. That was as much as an "I'm glad you're not dead" that she was ever going to get from the Hound.

"That was a nice axe you made for him," Arya complimented Gendry. "We've gotten better."

"Thanks, so have you," Gendry returned the compliment. "I mean you look good," Gendry said nervously. She was so beautiful. When she was younger, he thought she had a crush of it but he didn't think anything would come of it. Until right now, that is.

"Thanks. So do you," Arya said back.

"It's not a bad place to grow up if it wasn't so cold," Gendry sad as he walked back to making more weapons.

"Stay close to that forge then," Arya ordered.

"Is that a command from Lady Stark?" Gendry jokingly asked. He knew how much she hated being called a lady.

"Don't call me that," she ordered again.

"As you wish, milady," Gendry joked. As much as she hated being called a lady, there was something about they way he said it, the way it rolled off of his tongue that Arya liked. She couldn't help but smile and blush. Why was she doing that? She had looked down upon girls who acted that way in front of boys, especially her sister, her whole life. Why was she doing this now in front of him? But she returned to her serious state.

"Here's my wish," she said as she handed him a scroll with a drawing on it. The drawing was of a long stick with a removable dragonglass dagger at each end. It was very similar to the sticks she used while she was training with the Faceless Men of Bravos. "Can you make it?" she asked.

"What do you need something like this for?" Gendry asked back.

"Can you make it or not?" Arya repeated.

"You already have a sword," Gendry reminded her. "What's that?" he asked as he noticed the dagger Bran had given her on her belt. Arya pulled it out and handed it to him.

"It's Valyrian steel," he said in awe. It was a rare material to possess, let alone work with. "I always knew you were just another rich girl." He handed the dagger back to Arya and she put it back in its sheath on her belt.

"You don't know any other rich girls," Arya reminded him. She turned and walked away. He watched as she left the room. Arya spun around to get one last look at him as she left.

Upstairs, Sansa was reading a note she had just received from a raven when she heard a knock at the door. "Come in," she ordered. It was Jon Snow. Sansa sighed in disappointment. "Lord Glover wishes us good fortune, but he's staying in Deepwood Motte with his men," she read out loud.

Jon threw down his glove in anger. He knew they needed everyone to fight the army of the dead. To know that Lord Glover and his men weren't coming was just as much a militaristic setback as it was a personal disappointment. "House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousand years," he repeated Lord Glover's vow to Sansa, who rolled her eyes. "Isn't that what he said?"

"'I will stand behind _Jon Snow_,' he said. The King in the North," Sansa coldly told Jon, reminding him of the title and control he had so easily given away to a stranger. She angrily paced the room. Jon knew that now he would have to explain his decision to his sister in private.

"I told you we needed allies," he tried to explain.

"You didn't tell me you were going to abandon your crown."

"I never wanted a crown. All I wanted was to protect the North. I brought two armies home with me, two dragons-"

"And a Targaryen queen," Sansa pointed out.

"Do you think we can beat the army of the dead without her? I've fought them, Sansa, twice. You want to worry about who hold what title, I'm telling you, it doesn't matter. Without her, we don't stand a chance." Jon sighed. After a brief pause he asked, "Do you have any faith in me at all?"

"You know I do," Sansa answered.

"She'll be a good queen. For all of us. She's not her father," Jon assured Sansa.

Sansa sighed. "No, she's much prettier." Jon smiled and looked down. Sansa noticed it just as she noticed the way he looked at her or the way he talked to her when they didn't think anybody else was around. She knew that now was the time to ask the most important question, the one that had been in her brain since Littlefinger had suggested it to her.

"Did you bend the knee to save the North or because you love her?" she asked. Jon looked up at her with surprise. He didn't even answer her. He didn't need to. Sansa already knew that answer to her question.

Elsewhere, Daenerys and Jorah paced the library at Winterfell, clearly looking for someone. Once Jorah turned his head towards him, Daenerys cleared her throat. Samwell Tarly looked up from the desk he was sitting and writing at. "Oh," he said, once he realized who it was. He stumbled as he stood up.

"So you're the man?" Daenerys asked.

"Umm, which man am I, your grace?" Samwell asked, unsure of what was happening.

"The one who saved Ser Jorah when no one else could," she answered.

"They could, they just wouldn't," Ser Jorah clarified. Samwell smiled, confirming everything.

"I'll have to make some changed in the Citadel once I take the throne. A great service merits a great reward," Daenerys said.

"Oh, it's my honor to serve you, your grace," a smiling Samwell said.

"Well there must be something I could give you," Daenerys offered.

Samwell thought for a moment. "If it's not too much trouble, I could use a pardon," he answered.

"For what crime," Daenerys asked. How could someone who risked his own life to save a sickly friend of hers do something so horrible that he would need a pardon?

"Um, I borrowed a few books from the Citadel," Samwell answered. Daenerys and Jorah looked at each other and tried to hold back giggles. "And also a sword," Samwell continued.

"From the Citadel?" Daenerys asked. Why would the greatest library in Westeros hold a sword?

"From my family. It's been in House Tarly for generations. It would have been mine anyway eventually. But my father had…other ideas," Samwell explained.

"Not Randyll Tarly?" Daenerys asked. She seemed shocked.

"You know him?" Samwell asked. Jorah looked at him and then Daenerys. He knew she would now have to explain what she did to his father and brother.

"I offered to let him retain his lands and titles if he bent the knee. He refused," Daenerys explained. Jorah looked at Sam with pity. Sam looked down. His chin quivered and his breath was shaky as he tried to make sense of the fact that his father was dead.

Trying to find some relief in this, Sam said, "At least I'll be allowed home again, now that my brother's the lord."

"Your brother stood with your father," Daenerys told him. Now Sam could barely hold back tears. True, his father and brother were horrible to him. His brother teased him for being weak and his father thought him so less of a man that he threatened to kill him and make it look like an accident if he did not go to the Night's Watch and renounce all his titles. But still, they were his family. His father probably got what was coming to him, but Dickon? He was so young and he was less cruel than their father.

"Um, thank you for telling me, your grace." Sam struggled to maintain his composure in front of Daenerys. "May I…"

"Go ahead," Daenerys encouraged. Samwell Tarly hurriedly exited the library. He rushed down the stairs and into the street. He almost didn't see a wagon hurrying in front of him. He jumped back in the nick of time. After the wagon passed, Samwell saw Bran in his wheelchair on the other side. He ran up to him. Bran looked up at him.

"She told you, didn't she?" Bran asked.

"You knew?" Samwell asked, enraged. "Of course you knew. You're the bloody three-eyed raven now. What are you even doing out here this late at night?"

"I'm waiting for an old friend," Bran answered.

"What? Look, we have to tell Jon the truth. Right now," Sam said urgently.

"You have to tell him," Bran said.

"What? Why me? You said we were going to tell him together. You're his brother!"

"I'm not," Bran reminded Sam.

"Cousin. You know what I mean. He's known you since you were born."

"He trusts you more than anyone. You're his best friend," Bran told him.

"Who just found out that Daenerys killed his father and brother. If I tell him, he might think I'm making it up to get back at her. I mean honestly, which one of us do you think he'll believe?"

Bran remained silent for a few moments. "My friend won't be here until tomorrow anyway. We tell Jon together tomorrow night, just as we had originally planned." Samwell nodded and walked off to grieve for his father and brother in peace.

The next morning, more people continued to come to Winterfell to help prepare for the upcoming war against the dead. One man in particular rode a back horse and wore a black sack over his head. He said nothing to no one as he passed through the town and entered the gates of Winterfell. Clearly, he wanted to arrive at Winterfell without anyone knowing who he was. Once he arrived in the courtyard, he dismounted his black horse and removed the sack from his head.

Jaime Lannister looked around. He saw wooden structures mounted with dragonglass and trebuchets being built. He saw many people walk past him but one person stood out to him. The one who had been waiting for him since last night. The one he perhaps dreaded the most to see. The boy he had pushed out of a tower and crippled many years ago. Bran maintained his cold stare as Jaime's face filled with shock and regret for his many past crimes. Crimes against the people he was now fighting for. Crimes he would have to own up to now.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Daenerys rolled over in her bed and stirred. She slowly opened her eyes. Although there was very little light coming in, she squinted and rubbed her forehead. Her head was throbbing and she felt nauseous. She slowly rose and got out of her bed. She stumbled and steadied herself on the mattress. Suddenly, she felt something rise. She grabbed the chamber pot from underneath her bed and threw up in it.

As she finished, she wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her robe. Then, she heard a knock on the door. "Come in," Daenerys said weakly. Her friend and advisor Missandei entered.

"Good morning, your grace," Missandei greeted her friend and queen. "Did you sleep well?'

"I…I don't think so," was all Daenerys could get out before she hunched over the chamber pot again. Missandei rubbed Daenerys's back as she continued to throw up.

"What is the matter, your grace?" Missandei asked.

"I…I'm not sure. Perhaps the North doesn't agree with me. Perhaps I'm not adjusting well to the cold. Perhaps I rode the dragons a little too hard yesterday." These were the best possible reasons Daenerys could come up with for her sudden illness.

"Do you need to rest some more, your grace? I can bring you some breakfast and water," Missandei offered.

"No, I can make it through today. I just might take things a bit slower," Daenerys answered. "Come, help me get dressed," she ordered Missandei. Missandei found Daenerys's new white dress and helped her step into it. As Missandei began to tighten it, Daenerys squirmed and grabbed her breasts. "Argh. Not so tight, Missandei," Daenerys hissed through gritted teeth.

"My apologies, your grace. I did not think I was tightening it more than I normally do." Missandei loosened the dress. She seemed puzzled as to her queen's ailments but had a suspicion as to what the cause of them might be. "Your grace, perhaps it is none of my business, but when was the last time you bled?"

"Not since before we set sail from Dragonstone," Daenerys answered. "But don't worry about me. Besides, I can't have children," she sadly reminded Missandei. "I couldn't let myself hope that I was pregnant. Nor could I give Jon that false hope that he might become a father very soon."

"Maybe that is what you believe, but what about Jon Snow?" Missandei asked.

"He believes that the witch who told me that was not a reliable source of information," she nervously answered, running her fingers together.

"In any event. I have some news for you. Ser Jaime Lannister has arrived in Winterfell," Missandei informed Daenerys.

Daenerys's eyes widened. She shook her head. "And the Lannister army?" she asked.

"Just him," Missandei told her.

"Well then there is no time to lose. I may be ill, but I definitely need to have a few words with him."

…

Daenerys cast her icy cold glare upon Jaime Lannister. Here he was, the man who killed her father and who at one point tried to kill her as well, standing in front of her without any weapons or armies or supporters. True, she had heard stories of her father's cruelty and Tyrion had told her that Jaime had killed her father to keep him from blowing up King's Landing, but there was always this part of Daenerys that wondered what her life would have been like if she had just known her parents. Her own mother died shortly after she was born and her brother never forgave her for that. But this man had taken her father away before she could get the chance to meet him. Everyone else in the room shared her disdain for the Kingslayer, the man without honor. She sat in between Jon and Sansa. Bran sat next to Sansa. In the audience were their followers and the Northern lords and ladies, eager to hear Daenerys's judgment upon the Kingslayer.

"When I was a child, my brother would tell me a bedtime story about the man who murdered our father, who stabbed him in the back and cut his throat, who sat on the Iron Throne and watched as his blood poured onto the floor. He told me other stories as well, about all the things we would do to that man once we took back the Seven Kingdoms and had him in our grasp," she coldly told Jaime Lannister. "Your sister pledged to send her army north," she continued.

"She did," Jaime said.

"I don't see an army. I see one man with one hand. It appears your sister lied to me," Daenerys told him. Tyrion turned to face his brother. Would he reveal Cersei's lie to Daenerys?

"She lied to me as well. She never had any intention of sending her army north. She has Euron Greyjoy's fleet and 20,000 fresh troops," Jaime told her. Daenerys turned her glare towards Tyrion. "The Golden Company from Essos, bought and paid for. Even if we defeat the dead, she'll have more than enough to destroy the survivors."

"We?" Daenerys asked. After everything this man had done, did he really expect that she would let him join their cause, let alone live?

"I promised to fight for the living. I intend to keep that promise," Jaime told her.

"Your grace, I know my brother-" Tyrion started.

"Like you knew your sister," Daenerys snapped at him.

"He came alone, knowing full well how he'd be received. Why would he do that, if he weren't telling the truth?" Tyrion asked Daenerys. Out of the two Lannister brothers, which one could she trust the least right now?

"Perhaps he chose his little brother to defend him, right up to the moment he slits my throat," Daenerys explained.

"You're right, we can't trust him," Sansa said. Daenerys was surprised at Sansa agreeing with her. "He attacked my father in the streets. He tried to destroy my house and my family, the same as he did yours."

"You want me to apologize?" Jaime asked. "I won't. We were at war. Everything I did, I did for my house and my family. I'd do it all again," he explained.

"The things we do for love," Bran said. Everyone looked at him. Nobody but he and Jaime knew what that meant. Those were the last words Bran heard from Jaime before he pushed him out of a window, crippling him for life for watching him and Cersei have sex.

"So why have you abandoned your house and family now?" Daenerys asked.

"Because this goes beyond loyalty," Jaime answered. He turned to look at the woman who taught him about loyalty and fighting for justice, Brienne of Tarth. "This is about survival."

Brienne of Tarth stood up. "You don't know me well, your grace, but I know Ser Jaime. He is a man of honor." She walked up and stood in front of him. "I was his captor once. But when we were taken prisoner and the men holding us tried to force themselves on me, Ser Jaime defended me. And lost his hand because of it." Turning to Sansa, she continued. "Without him, my lady, you would not be alive. He armed me, armored me, and sent me to find you and bring you home because he'd sworn an oath to your mother."

Sansa was touched by the mere mention of her mother. She trusted Brienne more than anyone. She knew that Brienne was a woman of honor and a woman of her word. Because of her dedication to her mother even after her death, she rescued Sansa and Theon from the Boltons and kept her safe until she was finally at home in Winterfell once again. "You vouch for him?" she asked.

"I do," she answered.

"You would fight beside him?"

"I would," she answered.

"I trust you with my life. If you trust him with yours, we should let him stay," Sansa said. Daenerys was surprised by her yet again. Brienne went back to sit down.

"What does the Warden of the North say about it?" she asked Jon. Everyone turned to face him.

"We need every man we can get," he answered. Jaime was relieved. Daenerys, as much as she hated to admit it, knew he was right. If they executed him right then and there, he could be raised to join the army of the dead.

"Very well," she said. She turned toward Grey Worm. He walked over to Jaime and handed his sword back to him, looking at him with distrust.

"Thank you, your grace," Jaime said as he bowed to Daenerys. She rose, as did everyone else in the room. Sansa exited and Daenerys turned to Jon.

"You really think we're doing the right thing by letting him stay and fight with us?" she asked.

Jon nodded. "If he's not with us, he's against us. If he dies in battle, we can kill him again with fire and dragonglass. And if he so as much lays a finger on you, I will kill him myself and gladly be sent back to the Night's Watch for it." Daenerys smiled and left the room. Tyrion, Jorah, and Varys followed behind her. Jaime was left in the room. He faced Brienne, the person who had gotten him on Daenerys's good side, for the time being, and Bran. He could have told everyone right then and there that it was he who had pushed him from the tower and crippled him all those years ago, but he didn't. Why was that? Had Bran forgiven him for that?

As Daenerys walked into the hallway, she told Tyrion, "Either you knew Cersei was lying and let me believe otherwise, or you didn't know, which makes you either a traitor or a fool."

"I was a fool," he quickly said, trying to convince her.

"Not for the first time," she snickered. "Cersei still sits on the throne," she snarled as she faced him. "If you can't help me take it back, I'll find another Hand that can," she threatened as she left her three advisors behind.

"I suspect one of you will be wearing this, before it's all over," Tyrion sadly said, fingering his Hand of the Queen pin, as he faced Varys and Jorah. He had been treading on thin ice with Daenerys for quite some time now. He was lucky she didn't execute him for this. But she might if she found out he lied and why he lied.

Daenerys stood solemnly in her room, gazing at the fireplace when Jorah entered. "Forgive me, Khaleesi," he said.

"Have you done something to offend me?" she asked.

"Many things."

"Long ago and long forgiven," she assured him. She knew he had made terrible mistakes in his past and she had banished him for it. Still, he was here and healthy now and she knew he would always be loyal to her, which was something she could not say for the rest of her advisors.

"But you did forgive, despite my failures. When I heard you'd named Tyrion your Hand, it broke my heart."

"When I named him my Hand, I didn't know if I'd ever see you again," she explained.

"You made the right choice," Jorah assured her.

"I wasn't under the impression you liked him very much."

"I didn't. His mouth hardly stopped moving between Volantis and Meereen, it was all I could do not to throw him into the sea." Daenerys let out a small smile. "But the mind behind all those words…" Jorah shook his head.

"He's made mistakes. Serious mistakes," Daenerys angrily told him.

"As have we all," Jorah reminded her. "He owns his and learns from them."

"You're advising me to forgive the man who stole your position?" Daenerys asked.

"I am," Jorah nodded. "And one other suggestion, if you'll allow me."

After their talk, Jorah led Daenerys to Sansa, who was talking with Yohn Royce in the library. "The moment we can get the last infantryman onto the field we should shut the gates," they heard him tell Sansa.

"Keep them open for as long as you can," Sansa ordered. "There are still people coming in from the countryside." It was then that they noticed Daenerys. They both stood up to greet her.

"Lady Sansa, I was hoping we could speak alone," Daenerys said. Yohn Royce turned to Sansa. She nodded and he left, bowing to Daenerys as he exited. Turning to Sansa, Daenerys began. "I thought you and I were on the verge of agreement before, about Ser Jaime."

"Brienne has been loyal to me, always. I trust her more than anyone," Sansa explained.

"I wish I could have that kind of faith in my advisors."

"Tyrion is a good man. He was never anything but decent towards me," Sansa continued.

"I didn't ask him to be my Hand simply because he was good. I asked him to be my Hand because he was good and intelligent and ruthless when he had to be," Daenerys said as she walked closer to Sansa. "He never should have trusted Cersei," she said, disappointed.

"You never should have either."

"I thought he knew his sister," Daenerys said.

"Families are complicated," Sansa explained.

"Ours certainly have been," Daenerys agreed as she and Sansa sat down.

"Sad thing to have in common," Sansa lamented.

"We have other things in common," Daenerys pointed out. "We've both known what it means to lead people who aren't inclined to accept a woman's rule and we've both done a damn good job of it from what I can tell." Sansa smiled. "And yet I can't help but feel we're at odds with one another. Why is that?" After a pause, Daenerys had an answer. "Your brother."

"He loves you, you know that?" Sansa asked Daenerys. Although she already knew that, it felt good to hear someone else say it.

"That bothers you?" Daenerys asked.

"Men do stupid things for women. They're easily manipulated," Sansa tried to point out."

"All my life I've known one goal: the Iron Throne, taking it back from the people who destroyed my family and almost destroyed yours. My war was against them. Until I met Jon. Now I'm here, half a world away, fighting Jon's war alongside him. Tell me, who manipulated whom?" Daenerys explained.

"I should have thanked you the moment you arrived. That was a mistake," Sansa said, trying to apologize and reach a common ground with this stranger.

Daenerys placed her hand on Sansa's. "I'm here because I love your brother. And I trust him. I know he's true to his word. He's only the second man in my life I can say that about."

"Who was the first?" Sansa asked.

"Someone taller," Daenerys answered, remembering her late husband Khal Drogo. The two shared a giggle.

"And what happens afterwards?" Sansa asked. "We defeat the dead, we destroy Cersei, what happens then?"

"I take the Iron Throne," Daenerys answered.

"What about the North? It was taken from us and we took it back and we said we'd never bow to anyone else again. What about the North?" Sansa asked. Daenerys removed her hand from Sansa's. Clearly, they were still on opposite sides as to who should rule the North, whether it would be part of the Seven Kingdoms or not.

The two were interrupted by Maester Wolkan. "Apologies my lady, your grace," he said.

"What is it?" Daenerys asked impatiently. Maester Wolkan led them back to the dining room. Standing there was Theon Greyjoy and his men. He knelt to Daenerys.

"My queen," he said.

"Your sister?" asked Daenerys.

Theon rose. "She only has a few ships and she couldn't sail them here. So she's sailing back to the Iron Islands to take them back in your name."

Daenerys smiled knowing that Yara was all right and still on her side. "But why aren't you with her?" she asked Theon.

Theon looked over towards Sansa. Daenerys saw him looking at her. "I want to fight for Winterfell, Lady Sansa, if you'll have me." Tears welled up in Sansa's eyes. She walked over to Theon and embraced him. Daenerys could see that these two had a special connection. Suddenly, that nauseous feeling she had that morning returned.

"Please excuse me," Daenerys said as she hurried out of the room. As much as she disliked Sansa, that couldn't have been what was making her sick, right?"

…

Meanwhile, Jaime found Bran sitting by the weirwood tree in the Godswood. He was told that was where Bran spent most of his time these days. Jaime took a deep breath before he said the one thing he knew would have to be said before all was said and done. "I'm sorry for what I did to you."

"I was a little boy climbing up a tower even when my mother told me not to," Bran started. "I say two people, a brother and sister, naked and on a bed in my house. She was scared that I saw you. Then you pushed me out of the window and I was in a coma for a month. When I woke up, they said I would never walk again. All I wanted as a little boy was to become a knight and you took that dream away from me." Jaime looked down.

But then I left Winterfell, went beyond the Wall, and became the three-eyed raven. Now I can see everything, everything that is and everything that was. And that would not have happened if you hadn't pushed me out of that window. You weren't sorry then. You were protecting your family, the only way you knew how. If I had told anyone, Robert would have killed all of you."

"So you're not mad anymore?" Jaime asked.

"No," Bran simply answered.

"Why didn't you tell them all what I did to you?" Jaime asked.

"You won't be able to help in this fight if I let them murder you first," Bran answered.

Jaime nodded. "What about afterwards?"  
"How do you know there is an afterwards?" Bran asked. Could he see their defeat at the hands of the White Walkers already?

"I'm trying to remain optimistic," Jaime answered. "I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. I think I should have more time to do more good things to counter them out."

Moments later, Tyrion was walking through the courtyard of Winterfell, watching as men brought in weapons and armored their battlements with dragonglass. Jaime walked up to him.

"Well, here we are," Tyrion said.

"Yes, here we are," Jaime said back.

"Together again," Tyrion said. He looked up on a balcony to see three men glaring at them. One spat down. "And the masses rejoice," he said sarcastically.

"How do they feel about their new queen?" Jaime asked.

"She's your new queen too," Tyrion reminded him. He knew the consequences for those who would not accept Daenerys or prefer Cersei as their queen. "They remember what happened the last time Targaryens brought dragons north. They'll come around once they see she is different," Tyrion explained.

"And she is? Different?" Jaime asked.

"She is. I'm sure about it," Tyrion answered. "I am."

"She doesn't seem so sure of you," Jaime said, remembering how angry Daenerys was at Tyrion earlier that morning.

"It's hard to blame her. I made a mistake common to clever people. I underestimated my opponents. Cersei told me that pregnancy had changed her. She said it was a chance for you two to start all over again and I believed her." Tyrion stopped and turned around. "Was she lying about the pregnancy too?"

"No, that part is real. At least I think it was. Cersei's not as young and fertile as she used to be, but I thought she was pregnant," Jaime answered. "She's good at using the truth to tell lies. Don't be too hard on yourself. She's fooled me more than anybody."

Tyrion stopped to face his brother once again on a set of stairs.

"What?" Jaime asked.

"She never fooled you. You always knew exactly what she was, and you loved her anyway," Tyrion told him. And it was true. All their lives, Cersei had done horrible things and he did horrible things for her. He would have done more had he not finally seen her for the monster she truly was. Jaime once asked why the gods had made him love a hateful woman. He never knew why. All he knew was that now was the time for him to fight for the living, including people Cersei hated, and eventually fight Cersei herself and remove her from power.

Jaime followed Tyrion until they were atop the castle walls of Winterfell. "So, we're all going to die," Tyrion pointed out. "At Winterfell. Not the death I would have chosen. I always pictured myself dying in my own bed, at the age of eighty, with a belly full of wine and a girl's-"

"Mouth around your cock," Jaime finished. Tyrion smiled, for he had shared his death wish with so many people. At least his brother remembered it.

"At least Cersei won't get to murder me," he said. "I'm sure I'll feel some satisfaction denying her that pleasure, while I'm being ripped apart by dead men. Maybe after I'm dead, I'll march down to King's Landing and rip her apart." But by then, Jaime was no longer paying attention to him. Tyrion turned around to see Jaime looking over the other side of the wall, where men were training. But Jaime only had his eye on one person.

Jaime walked through the campsite, past where the Unsullied were testing a bridge that would cave in as a trap for the wights. He came up to Brienne, who was proudly watching Podrick Payne spar with another soldier.

"Ser Jaime," she greeted.

"Lady Brienne," he greeted back. They continued to watch the two spar. "He's come a long way," Jaime remarked.

"He's all right," Brienne said modestly. "He still has a lot to learn."

"I'm sure you'll teach him. I heard you're commanding the left flank."

"I am," she confirmed. "It's, uhh…it's good ground."

"It is," he agreed.

"The rise," she pointed. "It should give us some advantage. If we are able to keep a tight formation we might be able to beat them back."

"Yes, I think you're right," he agreed again.

"What are you doing?" Brienne asked.

"What?"  
"I think you know."

"I truly don't."

"Normally, by this time in our conversations, you would be mocking me or insulting me."

"You want me to insult you?" Jaime asked.

"No!"

"Good! Because I don't want to." He paused. "I came to Winterfell because…I'm not the fighter I used to be, but I'd be honored to serve under your command, if you'll have me."

Brienne was in shock. Never before had any man, let alone a Kingsguard, so humbled himself to be under a woman's command. She knew he was a capable fighter and that they needed him. "I need to get back." She left and Jaime watched her as she walked away.

…

Meanwhile, more and more dragonglass weapons were being forged. Gendry emptied a can of dragonglass before removing the forge of a sword from the fireplace. Watching close by was Arya. With each hammer strike, Arya felt something inside her tingle with excitement. He stuck the forge in a cauldron of water and steam surrounded Gendry. Arya liked the way his muscles looked in the dark room lit only by fire.

Gendry looked up and noticed her staring. "Don't you have something better to do?"

"You made my weapon yet?" Arya asked.

"Just as soon as I'm done making a few thousand of these," he answered, picking up the mold of a dragonglass battle-axe. Arya grabbed it from him.

"You should make my weapon first," Arya reminded him. "And make sure it's stronger than this. Gendry grabbed it back from her and thrust it into a black of wood.

"It's strong enough," he growled at her. He walked to a table of dragonglass arrowheads. Arya followed him. "It's going to be safer down in the crypts, you know?"

"Are you going to be down in the crypt?" Arya asked.

"No, but-"

"But you're a fighter," Arya reminded him.

"I've done my share," he said modestly.

"You fought them?" she asked.

"I did. Some of them."

"How many?"

"A few. That was enough," Gendry answered, turning his head away from Arya.

"What are they like?" she asked.

"Bad. Really bad," Gendry simply answered.

"Really bad?" Arya walked to the other side of the table. "Even a smith's apprentice can do better than 'really bad.' What do they look like? What do they smell like? How do they move? How hard are they to kill?" Arya rapidly asked.

"Look, I know you want to fight, all right? You're not scared of rapers or murderers or…but this is different. This is … this is death. You want to know what they're like? Death. That's what they're like."

Arya solemnly nodded. She picked up a dragonglass dagger from beneath Gendry's hands. "I know death," she said. She threw the dagger and it stuck high on a post with perfect accuracy. Gendry watched in amazement. "He's got many faces," she continued. She picked up another dagger and threw it. It landed right next to the other one. Gendry turned his shock-filled face to her. Where did she learn to throw with such precision and accuracy? "I look forward to seeing this one," she finished. She picked up another dagger and threw it next to the others. Gendry smiled. Arya stared to leave the room. "My weapon?" she reminded him.

"I'll get right on it," he said. He watched her leave. He would pity any idiot who would dare cross Arya Stark. They would soon meet a quick, painful demise. He admired how much she had grown into a deadly assassin, how confident she was, and how beautiful she looked while doing it all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Thanks for all the love, now here is Chapter 4 of Deliverance. This is where we start to diverge from Season 8, so**** enjoy!**

Chapter 4

Daenerys lay upright in her bed, with one hand on her stomach and one hand on her head. She couldn't figure out what was causing her ailment. The previous night, she had enjoyed a hearty stew with Jon after their dragon ride. Yet she had a strong aversion to the wine they served her. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the unwelcoming nature of the Northerners, but clearly the North did not agree with her. She heard a knock on the door. "Come in," she weakly said.

It was Jon, accompanied by his direwolf Ghost. In his hands were crackers, bread, salt, and a glass of water. "Maester Wolkan told me you hadn't been feeling well, so I thought you might be in need of these." Daenerys nodded and patted a spot on her bed. Jon sat down and handed her the glass and some crackers.

"Thank you. I could really use this." She ate the crackers.

"He also told me you talked with Sansa."

"I did," she sighed. "It did not go as planned."

"Give her time. She'll see you for what you are once we defeat the army of the dead," Jon said.

"I wish I could be as patient as you. I've just spent so much of my life on a continent I wasn't born on, so I thought I would feel more at home once I got back to Westeros. But now I don't know where my home is," Daenerys explained.

"This could be your home," Jon offered. "Even if King's Landing isn't, even if Winterfell isn't, even if Dragonstone isn't, there has to be some place here in Westeros that can be your home. Maybe we can build one together."

Daenerys smiled. "I'd like that." Jon smiled back.

"Then here is my vow to you, Daenerys Targaryen. I, Jon Snow, will pledge all of my Northern men to help you secure the Iron Throne. I will help you become the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I will give you a home. And, one way or another, I will give you an heir to succeed your reign. If I fail, you may burn me alive with your dragons."

Daenerys had tears in the brim of her eyes. "Let's not let it come to that." She pulled him to her and kissed him. Ghost interrupted them with a bark. "Oh, hello there. I don't believe I've gotten to know you very well," Daenerys said.

"Well allow me to introduce the two of you. Ghost, meet Daenerys Targaryen, the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Daenerys, this is my direwolf, Ghost. He's been with me through it all," Jon introduced the two.

"Well it's very nice to meet you, Ghost," Daenerys said. She offered her hand and Ghost met it with his paw. He then jumped up on the bed and licked Daenerys in the face. Daenerys giggled.

"I think he likes you," Jon said. "He definitely makes you smile. I like your smile. I wish I could see more of it."

"You're good at making me smile," she replied.

"There's one thing I'm good at that I actually like doing," Jon said. Daenerys paused. Her brother Viserys had told her that her brother Rhaegar was an accomplished fighter. Ser Barristan Selmy had once told her that while Rhaegar was a good fighter, he did not enjoy fighting. He preferred literature and the arts instead. Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door. Jon quickly stood up.

"Come in," Daenerys ordered. Tyrion, Davos, and Varys entered.

"Ah, your grace, Jon Snow," Tyrion greeted. "I hope this is not a bad time."

"Maester Wolkan told me her grace was not feeling well. I just came in to check on her," Jon explained.

"How thoughtful of you, Jon Snow," Tyrion said. He turned to face Daenerys, who was still angry with him for earlier. "Your grace, I know I have made serious mistakes. I cannot apologize enough for those mistakes. However, I believe I may have something good to offer you for once." Jon started to leave, but Tyrion stopped him. "No, no, Jon. This concerns you as well." Jon sat down on the bed. "As you both know, the two of you did not get off on the right foot." He was right. When they first met, Jon was determined to gain Daenerys as an ally against the White Walkers. Daenerys, on the other hand, believed he should bend the knee to her and support her claim to the Iron Throne. Even though they clashed at first, they grew to respect each other and what they both stood for.

Tyrion continued. "But now I believe the two of you have most past that. You two have come a long way since then and you seem to get along well. Jon even bent the knee to you, your grace, and I know for a fact he would not have done that if he did not believe in you." Jon nodded. "Still, I do believe the Northern lords and ladies need a little more persuasion. They still see you as an outsider and Jon as a kneeler. They need more reason to accept you as one of their own."

"Tyrion, if you have appoint, I suggest you make it right now," Daenerys suggested, impatiently, sipping from the glass of water Jon had given her.

"Well the lads and I have been talking," Tyrion answered, motioning to Varys and Davos. "And we believe we may have found a solution." Tyrion took a few steps forward and finally made his point. "I want to suggest a marriage between the two of you." Daenerys coughed, spitting up the water she had just sipped. Jon shook his head and his eyes widened. "I know, this is sudden, but the union of your houses will fully join the North to your cause. You will have more men to fight the army of the dead and my sister. Once you defeat them, you will have the whole Seven Kingdoms behind you supporting your claim to the Iron Throne." Both Jon and Daenerys remained silent and dumbfounded.

Davos stepped forward. "It was my idea, your grace. I believe that at your cores, you are both good people who are always fighting for the right causes. We could use two people like that ruling the Seven Kingdoms."

Varys stepped forward as well. "Just think about it. You don't even have to get married right away. If you so choose, you can wait until after you've taken the Iron Throne."

"May I ask you something?" Jon asked.

"Go ahead," Tyrion answered.

"Since neither of our parents are alive, who would propose to whom?" Jon asked.

"That is a good question," Tyrion answered. "You were named the King in the North, yet you bent the knee to our queen."

After a brief pause, Daenerys cleared her throat and said, "Thank you for your input. I will discuss it with Jon and tell you what we decide."

"Fair enough, your grace. I will let you rest and leave the two of you to discuss this matter," Tyrion told her. He led Davos and Varys out of the room.

Jon and Daenerys were now alone in the room. Both were still trying to absorb what they had just heard. Finally, Jon broke the silence. "Well, what do you think about it?" Daenerys said nothing. Jon continued. "I just want you to know that I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to do."

"Well, it would be important to officially have the North on my side," Daenerys said hesitantly. "And I think you would make a wonderful king," she added. Jon had not even thought of that. Being married to Daenerys would make him the King of the Seven Kingdoms. He had never wanted or even dreamed that he would sit on the Iron Throne. He laughed.

"Me as the King of the Seven Kingdoms? Can you imagine that?" he laughed.

"I actually can. I think you would be a good king. You were already named the King in the North, what's a few more kingdoms?" Daenerys joked.

"And that only lasted a few months before I bent the knee to you," Jon pointed out. "You've wanted this your entire life. I never have. And besides, you've already been a queen in Meereen."

"And along the way, I've always wanted someone to rule beside me. When I left Meereen, I left behind someone I thought I loved to be open to political marriage alliances here in Westeros. I think this is the perfect one for me," Daenerys explained. "I think this is the first good idea Tyrion's had in a while. But like you, I will not force you into this marriage if you are unwilling to participate."

Jon sat back and thought for a moment. He smiled. "I would like to see you in a wedding dress," he smirked.

"Oh would you now?" Daenerys asked, smiling seductively.

Jon leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers. "So I could tear it off you," he said huskily. Daenerys giggled and lightly kissed him.

"You would marry me?" she asked.

"I might," he teased.

"And what would I need to do to convince you to?" she asked seductively.

After a pause, Jon answered, "Take care of yourself and be patient, especially with my sisters."

Daenerys sighed. "I will do my best," she said.

Jon smiled. "You get some rest now." He kissed her on the forehead and slowly left the room. He passed Maester Wolkan on the way out. "Maester Wolkan," he greeted.

"My lord. I was just coming to check up on our queen," he told Jon. As Jon turned a corner, he saw his old friend Samwell Tarly.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you here. Or did you read all the books in the Citadel already," Jon greeted. He hugged his best friend.

"I thought my knowledge could prove useful here in the fight against the White Walkers," Sam said.

"It already has. Without your knowledge of the dragonglass stash at Dragonstone, we would not have any weapons to fight them with," Jon told him.

"For someone who's planning a battle, you seem to be in a surprisingly good mood," Sam noticed.

"I am. A lot has happened since we last saw each other. I have reunited with my sisters and brother. I have retaken Winterfell. I have met someone who will become our new queen after we defeat the White Walkers. She makes me believe that impossible things can happen," Jon told him. He knew there was more, like his own murder, but he decided to leave that out to not scare Sam. But Samwell's smile faded anyway.

"I heard. Daenerys Targaryen?"

Jon nodded.

Samwell thought he should tell Jon about what Daenerys did to his father and brother, but he decided to save that for later. Right now, he needed to tell Jon what he and Bran had learned about him weeks ago. "You're right. A lot has happened since we last saw each other. Since I've gotten here, I've gotten to know your brother Bran. He is a very smart young man. In fact, Gilly and I once helped him pass through the Wall. But now we are all here and we have much to tell you. Bran told me to come get you. He's waiting for us in the war cabinet."

Samwell led Jon to the war cabinet. Sitting in front of an open fire was Bran in his wheelchair. His stoic stare greeted the two friends. "It is time," Bran simply said. Samwell walked over to Bran's side. Jon seemed confused by what was happening.

"What's going on?" Jon asked.

"When I got north of the Wall, I met the Three-Eyed Raven. He could see everything. Everything that has ever happened throughout the history of time and everything happening all around us as we speak. He taught me how to use my visions of the past and present. Since his death, I have become the new Three-Eyed Raven. I now have access to all of history. I have been following the timelines of those I love, including you. I have seen every aspect of your life, even from before I was born. Which is why it is difficult for me to tell you this, but everything you think you know about yourself is a lie."

"What do you mean?" Jon asked.

"I know who your mother is," Bran said.

Jon's eyes widened. He had always wanted to know who his mother was, if she was alive, and why she wasn't around. He knew that Ned Stark was his father and Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon were his half-siblings. He knew that his own existence cast a stain on Ned Stark's honor and his marriage to Catelyn, who outwardly despised him. Now he would finally know the truth.

"You are not my brother, you are my cousin," Bran said. Jon was even more puzzled by this. "For your mother was Lyanna Stark, sister of Eddard Stark." Jon took a couple of steps backwards. This was not what he had expected to hear. He rubbed his forehead.

"What?" he asked loudly. "How can this be? Our father was an honorable man. He would never hurt a woman, much less his own sister."

"My father was an honorable man. As was yours. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen," Bran continued.

Jon shook his head rapidly. "No, no, no. This is impossible. How can you believe this?"

"You were born at the Tower of Joy in Dorne, shortly after Robert Baratheon defeated and killed Prince Rhaegar at the Battle of the Trident. Lyanna bled out giving birth to you. Luckily, my father got there in time. Although it was too late for her, she made him promise to protect you, for if Robert Baratheon had known the truth, he would have killed you. He had already killed Rhaegar. Elia and her two children had already been brutally murdered by Gregor Clegane. He would later send assassins to kill Daenerys and her brother Viserys. But before Lyanna died, she also gave you a name: Aegon Targaryen, sixth of your name. You were never a bastard after all," Bran explained.

"It's true, Jon," Sam quipped in. "Rhaegar had a High Septon annul his marriage to Elia Martell. He wed Lyanna in a secret ceremony at the Isle of Faces that same day. Gilly and I transcribed his diary at the Citadel. I didn't know what it meant until Bran told me of your birth. Jon, you're the rightful heir to the Iron Throne."

"No, I'm not. Daenerys is," Jon shouted. Daenerys. That was another thing. If what they were saying was true, then Daenerys was his…aunt. He had kissed and made love to his own aunt. He had committed the sin of incest, something he had never stomached he would do. It was one of the worst crimes one could commit; yet many had gotten away with it for so long, the Targaryens most of all. Jon suddenly felt dizzy. He could barely stand. He almost felt sick to his stomach.

"Jon, you are the only surviving son of Rhaegar Targaryen, the older brother of Daenerys. You are the rightful heir. You should press your claim. I think you will be a great king," Samwell said.

"And what about Daenerys?" Jon asked. "What about her? She's the one who really wants it."

"Jon, she killed my father and brother when they refused to bend the knee to her," Sam told him.

"Is that what this is about?" Jon asked angrily. "You said so yourself, they always treated you horribly. They made you give up your birthright to join the Wall," Jon told him.

"Yes, that is true. But they were still my family. They still deserved to live at Horn Hall," Sam tried to reason.

Jon took a deep breath. "Why didn't my fath-" He took another deep breath. "Why didn't Ned Stark ever tell me? Or Catelyn? Perhaps she would have understood if he had just told her the truth?"

"You were too valuable," Bran answered. "A Targaryen heir. The only son of my father's dead sister. If anyone had known, even my own mother, word would have gotten out fast. I know this is difficult to understand, but Ned kept his promise to his sister to keep you safe. This was the only way."

"Think about it, Jon. It all makes sense once you do," Sam advised. "Rhaegar did not kidnap or rape Lyanna. They fell in love at a tourney at Harrenhal many years ago. But Rhaegar was already married with two children. When Lyanna refused to marry Robert, the two ran off and got married. Bran has seen it all."

Jon shook his head. "Look, Bran, I don't know what happened to you north of the Wall, but there is no way you can possibly know all of this. I know there isn't." Jon started to walk away before Bran said something else.

"You know nothing, Jon Snow." This caught Jon by surprise. He turned around to face his brother and Sam once again. Only two women had said that to him in his lifetime: his deceased former lover Ygritte and the Asshai priestess Melisandre. Bran had never met either of these women. "Ygritte was her name, wasn't it?" Bran asked. "She was beautiful. She had fiery red hair. I'm sorry that you had to lose her like that at the Wall."

Jon turned to Samwell. "You told him about Ygritte?"

Samwell shook his head. "I didn't have to." Jon's breathing was quick and short. He turned and ran out of the room. He ran down the corridors. He saw Daenerys standing in the middle of the hallway. He ran right past her.

"Jon? Jon, wait!" She called out. Jon kept running. He rushed outside, down the stairs to the courtyard, past the soldiers, and down to the crypts of Winterfell, where all of the Starks were buried. The crypts were lit only by torches every few feet apart. Jon ran to the statue of Lyanna Stark. He looked up at her. That statue was all he would ever see of his mother. In the statue's hand was a feather placed there by Robert Baratheon on his final visit to Winterfell. Jon collapsed at the statue. He banged his fists at the statue's feet and burst into tears. All this time, he had a mother who loved him more than her own life, and he would never get to meet her or thank her for protecting him. This big secret surrounding his own existence was now known to him. The more he thought about it, he wondered who else could have known? Maester Aemon? Littlefinger?

Jon lifted his head to look at the statue of his mother. "I have so many questions for you. All my life, there has been this cloak of mystery hanging over my head, and now I know the truth. I wish you had lived. I wish I could have known you. I really needed you and my father." Jon turned to face the statue of Ned Stark, just a few feet away.

"You were the most honorable man I knew. You loved me. You mentored me. You never saw me as any different than your other children. And you lied to me my whole life. For one moment, just one, you could have told me the truth about who my parents were. YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME THE TRUTH!" Jon screamed, shaking his fists at the statue of his father. He fell to his knees and continued sobbing.

Jon could hear soft footsteps coming toward him. He looked up and saw Daenerys standing in front of him. She looked so beautiful, just as she did the day he met her. How could he tell this woman he loved and who moments ago was thinking about marrying what he had just learned, that they were related?

Daenerys knelt down and placed her hand on Jon's shoulder. Her eyes were full of sympathy for her love. "Jon, what is it?" she sweetly asked.

Jon, in the midst of his sobbing, could only get out the following, "My mother…she loved me."

"Of course she did," Daenerys said, trying to comfort him. "I may not have ever known her, but I know she loved you, just as I loved Rhaego, just as I love my dragons. Jon, I wanted to talk to you about Tyrion's proposal."

"I don't know if we should do it," Jon quickly said. Daenerys was taken aback by this. Had everything they had done together suddenly mean nothing to him?

"Why not?" she asked. Jon was unable to answer her.

"Is this because of Sansa? Because of the Northern lords?" Daenerys asked. "Because what I feel for you matters more to me than what they think about us. It is why I am here with you. I am sorry that they can't see that."

Jon shook his head. "No, no," he muttered, slowly getting up.

"Than what is it?" Daenerys asked.

"Because my mother…was Lyanna Stark," Jon slowly said. He had no other option but to tell her.

Daenerys looked even more shocked. "What? But that means that your father-"

"Was your brother, Rhaegar Targaryen," Jon interrupted. Daenerys shook her head and looked away.

"So this means that you're my-"

"Nephew, yes," It felt sickening for him to say the word nephew out loud. How could he possibly see her as the woman he loves and his aunt at the same time? "I only just found out."

"I just don't understand. Everyone always told me that Rhaegar was decent and kind. He liked to sing. He gave money to poor children. And for him to kidnap and rape her-"

"He didn't," Jon interrupted her again. "They were in love."

"Who told you this?" Daenerys asked.

"Bran and Samwell Tarly. Bran is now the three-eyed raven. I don't entirely know what that means, but he can now see everything that has ever happened. And Samwell transcribed a High Septon's diary at the Citadel. He annulled Rhaegar's marriage to Elia Martell and then wed him to Lyanna at a secret ceremony at the Isle of Faces. He read about their marriage without even knowing what it meant. I was born at the Tower of Joy in Dorne, just as Eddard Stark was reunited with his sister. But childbirth proved too dangerous of a task for her. As she bled to death on her birthing bed, she made Eddard promise to protect her son from Robert Baratheon, or else I would have been killed as an infant. My name, my real name, is Aegon Targaryen."

Daenerys sighed. "This is impossible."

"I wish it was, but it's true. As hard as it is to believe, I don't know how it could be any other way," Jon said. "All my life I wondered who my mother was and why she was never there for me. Well someone finally has an answer and believe me when I tell you this is not the answer I had in mind."

"Do you have any idea what this means?" Daenerys asked. Immediately she answered her own question. "You're the last living male Targaryen heir. You would have a claim on the Iron Throne."

"That's what Bran and Samwell said but I don't want the Iron Throne. You know I don't. The throne is yours, Dany. You know that. Do you think I haven't thought about what this means ever since they told me moments ago. I'm still trying to think everything through. I don't know how much more I can handle right now," Jon told her.

Although she heard Jon loud and clear, there was something Daenerys needed to tell him as well. She knew it would not make his load any lighter, but she too had no option other than to tell him. "Jon," she began. She gulped before she got out the next two words. "I'm pregnant."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! I'm so sorry this next chapter took so long. I've had a lot of stuff going on in my family and then my computer died and I had to get a new one. Thank goodness for iCloud, otherwise I would have had to start from scratch with this chapter and with other things. Some people have asked if this is going to be a Jon/Daenerys story. It mainly will be, but we will spotlight some other characters too. One of the next chapters will focus on Bran for instance. Anyway, I appreciate the love and comments from you guys and here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it and I hope you all are well during these crazy times. I know we will get through this pandemic together and our lives will go back to normal soon.**

Chapter 5

Jon turned to face Daenerys. He could say nothing. He could only take short breaths in even more shock. He turned away and faced his mother's statue again. How much news could he take in one night? First, his brother and his best friend had told him that he was not the one thing he had always known himself to be: a bastard. They has told him that his mother was the deceased sister of the man he believed to be his father and that his true father was the man falsely charged with kidnapping and raping his mother, and that very act led to a war that overturned the most powerful dynasty in the Seven Kingdoms. That very dynasty was the one the woman he loved and now him were descended from. The woman he loved was now his aunt and now she was carrying his child. True, this child had been conceived in their blissful ignorance on their voyage to Winterfell and out of their mutual love for each other, but now it felt like this child was the result of a shameful, horrendous crime. Now what were they to do? What would he say to his people, let alone Sansa and Arya?

Daenerys tried to offer some explanation and comfort to Jon. "I know what I said. I truly thought I couldn't have children. The witch who murdered my husband said I would only have a child when the sun rises in the east, when the mountains blow in the wind, and when the rivers run dry. But after you left my chambers, your Maester Wolkan came in and confirmed it. When I tried to explain to him that I couldn't have children, he told me, 'I don't know what that witch told you, but you are definitely pregnant your grace.' I don't even know when the sun rose in the east, mountain blew in the wind, when the rivers ran dry and yet somehow, this has happened."

Jon could still say nothing. "You didn't do anything wrong, Jon. This was something we did together. I don't regret anything." Jon remained silent. Daenerys wondered would they still be married? Or did he want her to drink moon tea and end the pregnancy? She continued, "I've already lost Rhaego and Viserion. I can't lose this one."

Jon blinked and finally faced her again. "I could never ask that of you. But I don't know what to do next. I don't know what we're going to say to people. To them, incest is a horrible crime. They already think I'm making a mistake by joining your cause. When they find out about this and the baby, they will get angrier. My brother Robb's wife was pregnant when she was killed at the Red Wedding. I don't want that to happen to you."

"First, I think we should tell Tyrion," Daenerys suggested. "He's made many mistakes, but I want to hear what he will advise us on this matter. Perhaps that will determine our course going forward."

Jon nodded in agreement. "You're right. Let's tell him first thing tomorrow morning."

…

Tyrion sat in a chair looking at the floor. He sipped from a glass a of wine and shook his head in disbelief at what Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen had just told him. He always assumed Jon's mother was some common woman Eddard Stark met during the war who died shortly after Jon's birth. He never suspected Lyanna Stark, let alone that Rhaegar Targaryen was the boy's true father. This fact would put Jon on the Iron Throne ahead of Daenerys. "How many thousands of men died all because Robert Baratheon loved a woman who didn't love him back?" he asked. Everyone remained silent. Tyrion got up and continued. "In light of this new information, this is all the more reason why my proposal should go forward. Jon will do the honorable thing and marry the woman he has impregnated."

"She's his aunt!" Varys pointed out.

"That never meant anything to the Targaryens before," Tyrion answered.

"But Jon grew up in the North. Is marrying one's aunt a common thing in the North? If they were cousins, it may not matter as much, but the sister of one's father?" Varys asked.

"If they marry, they will join the North permanently to her cause. They may want to see him rule. At least he will rule alongside her instead of against her. And the sooner the wedding the better," Tyrion explained.

Jon sighed. "When, then?"

Before Tyrion could answer, they were interrupted by Maester Wolkan. "Your grace, my lords, I hate to interrupt, but it is time for your war meeting. Others are waiting for you in the war room."

"We'll be right there," Jon told him.

"How are you this morning, your grace?" Maester Wolkan asked Daenerys.

"I am much better today, thank you," she answered.

Maester Wolkan nodded and walked away. Jon turned to Daenerys, Tyrion, and Varys. "We will continue this discussion after the war meeting."

They gathered around a large map of Winterfell. They were joined by Alys Karstark, Yohn Royce, Lyanna Mormont, Sansa, Arya, Davos, Theon, Brienne, Jaime, Samwell, Bran, Missandei, Grey Worm, Jorah, and a few Dothraki warlords. "I am glad you could all join us today," Jon started. "As you all know, the Night King has broken down the Wall with one of our queen's dragons and is marching south as we speak. First, they will try to take Last Hearth. Sansa, how many horses and wagons did we give to Lord Umber?"

"Twenty," Sansa answered. "It was all we could spare."

"I will lead our men to Last Hearth. There, we should meet with the Free Folk and the Night's Watch to fight the army of the dead," Jon said.

"When will you leave? Will it be soon?" Daenerys asked.

"The sooner the better," Jon answered.

"Will you be taking the Dothraki and the Unsullied with you?" Daenerys asked.

"Leave them here for right now. We will need all of them to defend Winterfell if things do not heed well for us," Jon answered. "There will be more than one battle against our enemy. This is not the enemy we can defeat in a straight fight. This is not one we can negotiate with, or even talk to. Our enemy doesn't tire, doesn't feel, doesn't love. Once they conquer an army, they will raise it from the dead to join their own and the rest of us will be outnumbered. We are already outnumbered by all of those who have died across all generations."

"What does the Night King want anyway?" Samwell asked.

"An endless night," Bran answered. "He was abducted and created by the Children of the Forest ten thousand years ago, as a weapon to use against the invading Andals. He wants what he believes to be his, what was taken from him before he became the Night King. He wants our lands, he wants us. He wants the children that were promised to him, the ones he never got. He especially wants the child of ice and fire. Once he converts that child, he will be unstoppable. He wants your child, Jon."

"But Jon doesn't have any children," Arya said.

"He does now," Bran told her. Everyone glanced across the room, realizing what Bran had just told them.

"You did this!" Sansa snapped at Daenerys.

"Sansa, Daenerys and I did this together. We didn't even think this could happen," Jon tried to explain.

"Oh please, Jon. Even you aren't that stupid," Sansa continued.

"Sansa-" Arya tried to stop her sister.

"You may have my brother fooled but I could see through you from the moment you stepped into Winterfell. It's not enough that you manipulated my brother into bending the knee to you, but now you have seduced him so that you would get pregnant and he would have to marry you, forever joining the North to your cause so that you can continue to rule over us, just as every Targaryen before you has. Cersei always said a woman's best weapon is the one between her legs. She was right."

"Daenerys is not Cersei, Sansa," Jon tried to convince her.

"Sansa, I know this is a lot to take in, but you are right about one thing," Tyrion told his ex-wife. "There will be a wedding between Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen very soon." This only made their small group angrier. "This is sudden, I know. I know the North has had an uneasy history with the Targaryens, but we are all here together and we must not fight amongst ourselves, or else the Night King and my sister have already defeated us."

"So when will this wedding take place?" Jorah Mormont asked.

"Tonight, by the weirwood trees," Tyrion answered. "After we have burned our dead. Tomorrow, Jon can lead his men to defend Last Hearth. We already have the most important lords and ladies of the North to witness this wedding. It may not be the wedding of the year, but we are scrapped for the resources and the time to make one. It's either tonight or never."

"Tonight it is then," Jon said. Everyone solemnly nodded. "We will discuss defending Winterfell once I return." Everyone glanced at him with scorn in their eyes as they left the room. Missandei and Grey Worm escorted Daenerys out of the room. Arya stopped before Jon once it was just the two of them in the room. "I know this is a lot to take in. It's a lot for me to take in too. But this is how it's going to be from here on out." Arya nodded. "Do you have any questions?" he asked.

"Only one. Do you love her?" she asked.

Jon nodded. "Aye. I do. Very much so."

Arya nodded and looked down. "Then that is all I need to know," she said as she briskly walked out of the room.

…

Later that night, Missandei was gently braiding Daenerys's silvery blonde hair after bathing her in her room. They were both very quiet in anticipation of the wedding that was about to take place. Finally, Missandei tried to soften the mood in the room. "I want you to know that I am very happy for you. I know you did not want to marry Hizdar. But Jon is very different from him. I know you did not believe that you could have a child. But many things have changed since you told me that. I want you to be happy too, my queen."

"Thank you, Missandei." They were startled by a sudden knock on the door. "Come in," Daenerys ordered. It was Arya. She was carrying a neatly folded cream- colored dress.

"Your grace, you don't know me too well. I am Arya Stark, sister of Jon Snow," Arya introduced herself.

"I know. Jon has told me so much about you. Out of all of his siblings, I believe you are his favorite. The two of you could never quite follow the rules here in Winterfell, so you both ventured out into the world. Many terrible things happened to you both, but now you are both back and fighting on the same side with everyone else," Daenerys told her.

"Sansa told me to bring you this. She is not any happier about the wedding, but she made you this. It belonged to our mother."

"Thank you." After a brief silence, Daenerys said, "I feel as though you have something else to tell me."

"Like I said, I don't know you all that well. But in a matter of hours, you will be marrying my brother. Jon is a brave, kind, and honorable man, one of the very few I know. You are already carrying his child. He told me he loves you and I believe him. I want to know what your intentions are with him. Do you love him? Will you take over Winterfell now? My brother loves you and my sister despises you. I am trying to make up my own mind about you. Just know that when people hurt my family, I hurt them in ways worse than they could ever have imagined."

Daenerys nodded. "I do love your brother, Arya. I delayed my own ambitions and goals to take the Iron Throne, the one thing I have dreamed about my entire life in exile, to help him defeat the army of the dead. I wanted him to bend the knee but he refused at first. It wasn't until I saw the White Walkers strike down my dragon that I saw how serious of a need this was. It didn't matter whether or not he bent the knee. I just knew I needed him to survive. I knew I needed to help him fight them. I love everything you love about him. Like you said, he is a rare kind of man. I will continue my quest to take the Iron Throne from Cersei and rule the Seven Kingdoms with your brother by my side. Our child will carry on our name and succeed after me. And I do intend to rule all Seven Kingdoms," Daenerys told Arya.

"My sister wants to be the Lady of Winterfell. She thinks she is the best person for the job because she is the Stark who helped win back out home. After all she's been through, she doesn't want to kneel before anyone else who would threaten her."

"I know. I both admire and despise it about her," Daenerys said. "But with me on the Iron Throne and Jon by my side in King's Landing, she can rule Winterfell far away from me. And what about you? What is it you want most, Arya Stark?"

"I want to kill everyone left on my list: Queen Cersei, the Mountain, Ilyn Payne, and the Red Woman."

"Well when we take King's Landing, maybe you can do the honors of killing Cersei. You can cross off every name on your list," Daenerys offered.

Arya smiled. "I'd like that very much." After a pause, she said, "I'd best leave you to get ready. Since we're about to become family, just let me know if you need anything."

Daenerys nodded. "I will." Arya left the room. "Well," Daenerys thought, "At least one of Jon's siblings likes me."

…

The dark, cold night hung over the Godswood outside of the Winterfell castle. Everyone stood bunched together, huddling close for warmth. They were wearing whatever clothes they had been wearing earlier that day, as they did not have time to prepare for this wedding. Tyrion had found a septon to officiate the ceremony. Jon stood beside the septon, waiting anxiously for Daenerys. He had been bathed and combed for this ceremony. He was wearing a fur cloak that bore that Stark sigil of the direwolf. He could barely believe that he was about to get married, and to his aunt, no less.

Long ago, he had sworn to never take a wife, but those vows had ended some time ago. He thought back to what he had once told a conflicted Theon Greyjoy, who sought his forgiveness for his crimes against the Starks. He had done those terrible things because he wanted to prove himself to the family he was born into. And Theon suffered greatly under the vicious Ramsay Bolton for his mistakes. However, he had earned Jon's forgiveness by helping Sansa escape Ramsay. "You don't have to choose," Jon had told Theon. "You're a Greyjoy and you're a Stark." Could he be both a Stark and a Targaryen?

He noticed Theon standing next to Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Samwell. He could see the scowls on Sansa and Samwell's faces, begging him not to go through with this marriage. Behind them stood the lords and ladies of the North. They each had their own reasons not to like Daenerys, but he knew he was doing the right thing. He looked to the other side and saw Tyrion standing next to Jaime, who was standing next to Brienne of Tarth. Standing next to her was a forlorn Jorah Mormont. Behind them stood Daenerys's loyal Dothraki and Unsullied followers.

Everyone suddenly turned around to watch Daenerys slowly walk unaccompanied down the aisle of snow in between the two sides. Her dress was white with brown branches embroidered. Her cloak was light grey with the same embroidery. She had noticeable shoulder pads and a small veil held in place in her flaxen blonde hair by a large white comb. She was wearing white gloves. She saw the looks of uncertainty on everyone's faces, which matched how she felt inside. They all stole glances at her abdomen, which the dress was concealing, as it had been altered to fit Daenerys.

Finally, Daenerys reached Jon at the base of the weirwood tree with the septon. Even Jon was taken aback by how radiant she looked. "You look beautiful," he whispered. Daenerys slowly smiled at this.

The septon cleared his throat. "We are gathered here today to witness the union of Daenerys of House Targaryen and Jon Snow, a bastard son of Lord Eddard of House Stark of Winterfell. Jon, you may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." Jon removed his fur cloak and walked behind Daenerys. He gently draped it over her shoulders, ensuring that he would always protect her and stand behind her. He then stood by her side and offered her his hand. She placed her hand over the top of his hand.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Let it be known that Daenerys of House Targaryen and Jon Snow of House Stark are one heart, one flesh, one soul, now and forever. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. Look upon each other and say the words," the septon ordered as he wrapped a large white ribbon over their hands.

Jon and Daenerys turned to face each other and said, "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his/hers and she/he is mine, from this day until the end of my days. With this kiss, I pledge my undying love and take you for my lord and husband/lady and wife!" Jon then placed his hand on Daenerys's cheek and kissed her. The audience gently clapped. Although many had their doubts, the ceremony turned out to be very beautiful.

…

The ceremony was not as grand as it should have been. The guests were served mutton, red wine fresh from the barrel, soup, and barely fresh bread. Jon and Daenerys glanced at each other and faced the crowd. Close to the newly wedded couple was Jon's family.

"You know, this is the first wedding I have actually seen. Do they always go this way?" Arya asked Sansa and Bran.

"Consider yourself lucky. All the weddings I have been to ended in disaster, especially my own," Sansa said. Bran nodded.

Everyone else was scattered and bunched together in the dining hall. At one table sat Tyrion, Brienne, and Jaime.

"You know, this is the second wedding we have been at together," Jaime told Brienne and Tyrion.

"Let us hope this one will go more smoothly than the last one and that none of us will have to flee for their lives this time," Tyrion remarked as he drank his wine.

"Otherwise we might be cursed," Jaime added.

"At least for this one, I did not have a dress to wear," Brienne added.

"It never suited you, anyway," Jaime replied. Brienne smiled as she took another sip of her wine.

Jon stood up and raised his wine chalice. Everyone stopped talking and turned to face him. "I would like to propose a toast to my new wife, Daenerys of House Targaryen. When I first met her, I knew that she was a strong, enigmatic force to be reckoned with. I sought her help in aiding us against the upcoming war against the dead and she wanted me to bend the knee to her. It took a while to convince her of a threat she had never known before, but she sacrificed one of her dragons to save me life and the lives of my comrades from the White Walkers. It was then that she agreed to join us and pledge her men to our cause. Once I knew how much she was willing to risk, I knew that she would be a good queen for the Seven Kingdoms."

"But this is only the most recent of her great accomplishments," he continued. "Across the Narrow Sea in Essos, she has made miraculous things happen. She has brought dragons back into our world. She liberated slaves from cruel masters and she gave them the choice to join her army or live their own lives. I personally think they made the right choice. All the while, she has endured hardships and fought on to come back to her home country to take what was stolen from her many years ago. She is brave, strong, determined, and at times ruthless, but she is also willing to make great sacrifices to those who are in need of help. For me, I can think of no better person to lead us into the future and to rule this country. Daenerys, welcome home. To Daenerys!" Jon shouted.

"To Daenerys!" the crowd roared as they raised their drinks. Daenerys smiled at Jon as they clinked their glasses together.

"Because of the tremendous amount of respect I have for my wife, there will be no bedding ceremony tonight," Jon added. The crowd moaned, for there were many men who would love to disrobe a new bride for her bridegroom. Jon stood up and raised his hand. The crowd slowly calmed down. Jon extended his hand to Daenerys. She took it and stood up with him. "Now, we shall retreat to our bedroom," he announced. The crowd cheered. "Enjoy the rest of the evening," Jon finished. He then led Daenerys through the crowd, into the hallway, and eventually to the room that once belonged to Eddard and Catelyn Stark. He closed the door behind them. He knew there would be people following to listen to ensure that their marriage was consummated.

"This was the room that belonged to my father and Lady Stark," he told Daenerys. She was glancing around the room.

"It's very large. With a bed fit for a king," she said. Finally, she turned to face him. "You didn't have to say all of those things back there."

"Oh yes. I really did," he said.

"I know you didn't want this," Daenerys continued. "Any of this. You still don't. The damage is already done, anyway."

"Don't say that!"

"Just know that I love you, and I love our baby. If you want nothing to do with me tonight, if you want me to sleep in my wedding dress tonight and every night, I understand."

Jon stood up. Despite everything he had learned in the past day, despite everything those around him thought, he still loved Daenerys. Loving her didn't feel wrong to him. She was now his wife in his home and he wanted to show her how much he still cared. "I do love you, Daenerys," he told her. He leaned in and kissed her. She placed her hands around his neck, deepening the kiss. He placed his hands on her back. His fingers worked their way up to the top of her back until they found the lace holding her dress together. He started to unlace her dress.

Daenerys in turn unhooked his fur cloak and tossed it to the floor. Jon slowly slid the dress down to the floor. His hands stopped to feel her abdomen, which had barely begun to swell. He stared at it for a minute and smiled. They continued kissing and fell on top of the bed as they began to make love for the first time as husband and wife.


End file.
